


I’d Give This World to You

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fangirl extraordinaire, Felicity Smoak bookworm, Flirting, Future Fic, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She vaguely wonders when this all became normal to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’d Give This World to You

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I'm still trying to figure out how this happened. Basically, as usual, it's all **spyglass** ' fault. Seriously, best life ruiner I know; thanks for letting me steal a little piece of your headcanon, hun.
> 
> Title found in Faith Hill's _Paris_.

It’s a slow night.

Though, maybe, slow’s not the right word.

Her computers are busy running diagnostics and algorithms on the holdings of Orbital Science Corps while John and Oliver spar in the background.

She actually really enjoys nights like these, when she’s accomplishing something and being allowed to indulge in a good book, a whole other world, while knowing exactly where her boys are.

Her feet are kicked up, her chair tipped back enough so that she can easily see them out of the corner of her eye even as she falls further into the romance and warmth of Paris. There’s always something intriguing about Digg outmaneuvering the man who brought them both into this crazy (wonderful) life and she looks up now as it happens, Oliver groaning as he lands on the mat with a thud.

She knows he’s making note of whatever the other man did and she turns back to her book just as he flattens his palms on the ground and kicks his leg out, bringing Digg down to his level.

There are traded barbs back and forth, grunts and then the sticks come out and she vaguely wonders when this all became normal to her. That it’s nothing more than background noise as she strolls along the Seine, falls in love with the heroine of the story.

“...finished yet?”

Her head flies up and she bites down on the inside of her lip as she realizes sweaty, warm Oliver has been talking to her for the last two minutes as Diggle starts for the shower.

“Um, no, it’s...” A deep breath, her eyes still skimming the last paragraph she was reading as her feet land on the floor. “Going to be at least another two hours. I can stay though, I’ve been waiting for this book to be released and now that I’ve start—” 

“Is that Fabio?”

He ducks his head, gaze focused on the cover of the novel as an amused, lazy smile spreads across his face. It’s one he only seems to use with her and while it always sends heat shooting down her spine she knows she can’t get lost in it now.

Not when he’s taking such glee in the knowledge that she enjoys a great romance novel now and then.

Nope, she looks back at the white pages clutched in her hands, pretends to keep reading though the words jumble in front of her as he steps closer, his hands settling on the top of her chair.

“Honestly, Miss Smoak, I am shocked.” The tone is teasing—familiar—with no actual judgment, just a game played between two friends. “Did you have something like this hidden in that thermodynamics book you were reading with such concentration the other week?”

“No, that was _Firefly_ fan fiction.”

That he’s not even a little confused by the statement makes her grin. Still, she’s not sure what his response will be and she can’t stop the heat washing over her cheeks as he leans into her space, reading over her shoulder.

“Geez, is... Dominique... an acrobat or something?”

“No, he’s a French chocolatier. Why?” Her voice is some weird combination of light banter and stuttered fact. “You need tips?”

He just laughs and shakes his head no, fingers brushing over her shoulder as he steps towards the mats to clean up. Pressing her lips together, she spins back towards her monitors, tries to ignore the fact that he’s surely just added this information to his mental list of “fun facts about Felicity”.

(Try saying that five times fast; she can barely think it once.)

Her programs are still running, estimated time down to an hour and she settles back in her chair, book still tight in her hand as Oliver comes back into view, motioning to let her know he’s going on a quick patrol run. Nodding, she follows his form up the steps before getting lost near the Eiffel Tower once more.

The next day she finds a box of chocolates and a note on her desk: _I brought Paris to you_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Book referenced is _The Chocolate Touch_ by the wonderful Laura Florand.


End file.
